The Watcher
by Bubus49
Summary: Of all the things that could have ruined their lives, this was the less expected. And none of them could have predicted that. The Watcher did not see, and the Listener did not hear. Now, there was nothing left. TW : Depression, suicidal thoughts.
1. The Watcher

**Author** **'s note :**

Hey guys ! So, first fanfiction in the Skyrim random, resulting from a real in-game event that just broke my heart. There will be two chapters to this fic, first one from Erandur's point of view, then from my Dragonborn's one, Galaadal.

I apologize for any mistakes, English is not my native language. Therefore, I also play Skyrim in French.

Enjoy !

* * *

They had done many things together, Erandur thought.

Kneeling before his shrine of Mara in Nightcaller Temple, his old priest robes back on his slender body, he thought about all the time he had spend with her.

Galaadal.

The Dragonborn.

Defeater of Miraak.

Defenser of the Skaals.

Champion of Azura.

Archmage of the College of WInterhold.

Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild.

Listener of the Dark Brotherhood.

Thane of every hold in Skyrim.

And probably a whole lot more titles which had been forgotten.

But most importantly.

His saviour.

His wife.

She had come back to Nightcaller Temple, an amulet of Mara around her neck. She had looked at him with her oh so beautiful iron-blue eyes.

No words needed to be said.

They had been happy.

Galaadal had already adopted two children : Samuel, a boy from Honorhall Orphanage, and Lucia, an oprhaned girl in Whiterun.

They had been happy.

Erandur had often stayed home with the children, awaiting his love's return.

And it had been good this way.

Galaadal had provided him peace.

One day, she had come home with a new housecarl, Valdimar. She had made him her new steward of Windstad Manor.

She had seemed suspicious of him, strangely mistrusting. But she had dismissed those thoughts, aying all those adventures had probably made her panaroiac. She had left her children in his care, and had took Erandur with her.

They had travelled to Solitude, where they had met Belrand. A nice fellow. A sellsword. Galaadal had immediately trusted him, and had hired him.

The three of them had gotten along, and Belrand proved himself as a powerful friend. Galaadal had wanted for them three to go home.

And the nightmare began.

It was stupid, really. Three bandits. Erandur and Belrand had defeated them easily.

But Galaadal had not fought.

She was kneeling in front of what seemed a body.

A little, tiny body.

Erandur came closer.

His eyes widened with horror.

Little Lucia, _their_ daughter, was dead.

Dead.

This word haunted Erandur.

Killed by three bandits.

Erandur just stood there.

He barely felt Belrand moving closer too.

And then, Valdimar came out of the house.

He asked, « What happened ? ».

And that was it.

Only Erandur saw what happened next.

He knew her well.

Flames dancing around her fingers. Two balls appearing in her hands.

She rose.

Here it was.

Her wrath.

Silent.

Deadly.

The second after, Valdimar burnt.

No one could have survived such a fireball.

Erandur watched.

That is what he did best.

Watching.

Observing.

Learning.

She turned in his direction.

Her face distorted. Her blond hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Sweat and tears. Her mouth small, lips pressed together. Jaw clenched, strong. Her eyebrows nearly together. Her eyes colder than ever, yet blazing with anger.

Ernadur watched.

Only he saw the immense sadness and pain behind the wrath.

She stepped forward.

Ernadur watched.

Fire was still dancing around her fingers.

Envelopping them.

Protecting her.

Then it struck him.

He should be the one to do it.

Provide these to her.

Comfort.

Protection.

She had given him both.

He briefly wondered about Belrand.

Galaadal stood in front of him.

He felt her breath on his face.

Envelopping him.

« Why don't you say anything ? » she asked.

Her voice was trembling in retained anger.

He said nothing.

He watched.

And he saw.

Her hand rising.

She had forgotten her hand was still swimming in magicka.

It rose.

And she slapped him.

Hard.

A fireball still in her hand.

Erandur fell.

Everything hurt.

And burnt.

« Go away ! »

She yelled.

She never yelled.

Erandur got up.

He could not watch anymore.

Not with so much tears in his eyes.

And so there he was.

Back in this damned temple.

With these damned broken benches.

With this damned, gigantic sculpture of Vaermina.

With this damned, ridiculously little shrine of Mara.

With his damned, damned self.

With his damned, damned thoughts.

WIth eyes that had nothing to watch.

With eyes that could only cry.


	2. The Wonderer

**Author** **'** **s note :**

Okay, so actually I made a chapter from Belrand's point of view, because I could not leave the lad out in good conscience. So three chapters in the end, thelast one from Galaadal's point of view and the end of this horrible event.

Enjoy the bonus-chapter !

* * *

Well, Belrand certainly did not expect _that_ turn of events.

It has been hours now. Hours since Lucia's death, hours since Galaadal had hit, then dismissed Erandur.

Crap.

Belrand had grown found of both of them during the short amount of time they had spent together.

A Nord and a Dark Elf.

They made a funny couple.

He was petting one of Galaadal's horses. A beautiful grey stallion with white dots. Galaadal was sitting near a stone arch, where she had put Lucia's body.

Belrand did not know what to say, and neither did Galaadal. Maybe there was nothing to say.

Or maybe it was because Galaadal was a Listener.

And he was no Speaker.

And they had lost their Watcher.

Belrand sighed.

Nothing to be done.

He wondered.

About Erandur.

He may be no Watcher, but he had seen Erandur's emotions when he got hit.

Confusion.

Sorrow.

Understanding.

But no anger.

Erandur was a calm fellow. He did not speak that much, but loved commenting on the various places they visited. When Belrand had asked him about it, he had not hesitated for a second to tell him about his experience at the Bards' College.

Still, Belrand knew the mer was hiding some sort of secret. One Galaadal seemed fully aware of.

Maybe that was what had brought them together.

A Nord and a Dunmer.

Belrand was dragged away from his thoughts by Galaadal finally moving.

She ran inside the house, only to come back a minute later.

Belrand tried to watch.

And to his own amazement, he saw.

Saw the new object Galaadal was carrying.

Ahzidal's Ring of Necromancy.

She had carried it from Solitude.

Told him about its abilities.

But he saw it too late.

After all, he was no Watcher.

« Wait, don't ! » he shouted.

But Galaadal had already cast the spell.

And Lucia rose.

At least her body did.

Because it was not Lucia anymore.

Because Lucia died hours ago.

And so Belrand and Galaadal watched.

They watched the body covered in light snow.

Watched the rigid posture.

Watched the closed eyes.

She was here.

And yet so far away.

Galaadal's hand rose.

Her fingers lightly brushed her daughter's cheek.

« Lucia ? »

She was trembling. Her hand, her voice, her entire being.

And Belrand felt and ounce of her sorrow.

And it was the worst feeling he had ever experienced.

Then he heard a gasp behind him.

Samuel was standing in the threshold.

Belrand went to him.

« You shouldn't watch this, kid. » he said.

Maybe there were other things to say, better than that.

Or maybe there was nothing to say at all.

The boy looked at him, tears flowing freely on his cheeks.

« She won't be coming back, will she ? »

Belrand closed his eyes, and took the kid in his arms.

« No, kid, she won't. »

Samuel cried.

And Belrand did all he could not to.

« Neither will dad. » said suddenly Samuel between two sobs.

Belrand wondered about this.

Would Erandur come back ?

Maybe if Galaadal went to get him.

« You dad will come back, kid. »

He tried to be as reassuring as he could.

But again, he was no Speaker.

Then, he heard an explosion.

He looked quickly at the source of the sound.

Lucia's corpse had exploded into thin ice.

And Galaadal was holding her shoes.

The only thing left of her.

And Belrand knew what was coming.

So he quickly went backinside with Samuel.

He sighed.

And wondered.

What to do ?

Slowly, he kneeled in front of Samuel, his hands on the boy's shoulders.

« Kid... » he began, uncertain. « I... need to speak to your mom, alright ? »

Samuel nodded slowly.

« So... I, ah, need ya to stay here alright ? Maybe... prepare some food and drink for your mom, alright kid ? »

Samuel nodded again.

« Alright, we'll be back. »

And so Belrand went back outside.

Rain had started to fall.

Galaadal was crying.

Loudly.

Screaming even.

Belrand did not wonder anymore.

He ran towards her, and envelopped her with his arms.

And Galaadal let go.

She cried, screamed, fought, and then went limp. Belrand closed his eyes. He has to be strong now. He _must_ be.

By the time the woman calmed down, both of them were drenched and freezing.

« Let's go back inside, eh ? » asked gently Belrand.

Galaadal only had the strength to nod.

A few more hours passed. Hours of silence, and wondering.

Belrand wondered.

It was what he did best.

And then it struck him.

Someone was missing.

Galaadal was sitting by the fire, a bottle of Alto wine in her hand.

Fortunately, she was not a big drinker.

It was her only bottle.

Belrand sat by her side.

« Watcha gonna do now ? » he asked.

Galaadal shrugged.

« Don't know. »

Suddenly, she let go of the bottle and put her head in her hands.

« By Julianos, I am such an idiot.

\- Why ? »

She looked at him with those fierce, iron-blue eyes.

Those eyes a certain Dunmer loved.

« I made a terrible mistake. »

She got up.

« I have to fix this. »

Hesitation.

She looked at the door leading to the bedroom.

Belrand understood.

« Do you trust me ? » he asked.

She looked at him again, questioningly.

« Yes. »

Her voice was firm and confident.

Belrand bowed his head lightly.

« Then go. I'll watch over Sam. »

She hesitated.

Understandable.

Belrand rose and went towards the bedroom.

« He won't leave my sight for a minute. »

She pressed her lips together, but nodded.

Belrand smiled.

« Go and get that pious ass back here. »

She smiled lightly.

And she left.

Belrand played with Samuel, and told him some of his most exciting adventures. It was good to see that the kid's mind was somewhere else for a moment.

But, at the same time, he could not stop wondering.

How will all of this end ?

And so he wondered.


End file.
